


sixteen

by valiidpunkman



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Nervous Billy, Past Relationship(s), Teenage Drama, soft Billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21625528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valiidpunkman/pseuds/valiidpunkman
Summary: Billy runs into his ex unprepared, then later heads to some party hoping to blow off steam.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Reader, Billy Hargrove/You
Kudos: 23





	sixteen

If anybody were to tell Billy what he would’ve seen when he went on an innocent trip to the supermarket to pick up his favorite frozen burritos, he would’ve ditched the frozen food and just order in a pizza for himself instead. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the shock, then the disappointment, and not to mention the utter fucking disgust of seeing you play Happy Housewife picking up groceries with a boy holding onto you by your hip. You were laughing with the tall handsome stranger, pointing at the sprinkled donuts as if there was something hilarious or entertaining about them.

Billy had originally been strolling through the aisles at ease, happy to get out of the house and go do something besides work, class, or going to the gym. Becoming a young adult for Billy meant chores like grocery shopping, and attending community college as a fresh start, also working at the car place down the street from town. He’d been doing good for a change, and it was a different feeling for him. Usually something (or in this case someone) would have him kicking and screaming his way back to his old self. Back when he was never anything but angry, sat around and blamed the world and refused to properly deal with his feelings, or think over his actions. However, college started and he met new people, strived to better himself not just physically but mentally. He even ditched his regular tough guy workout diet, replacing the protein shakes once in awhile and grabbing a case of colorful mouth-watering mini cupcakes for himself instead. He was hoping to treat himself because he deserved it, but this is what the world would rather graciously gift him: his ex girlfriend pawing at some douchey delinquent right in front of his face.

Billy reacted quick, almost embarrassingly quick, hiding himself behind the nearest corner with his back to the wall, his treats still sitting in the grocery basket as he cautiously peeked around to see if you were coming closer in his direction. Seeing as though you weren’t there anymore, he thanked his lucky stars and at last minute grabbed a bucket of vanilla ice cream from the nearest freezer section, because he fucking can, thank you very much. That’s what seeing “the one that got away” sucking face with somebody else at the store had done to the poor boy. The blonde anxiously tiptoed around the perimeter of the store, looking for your hair or that guy’s ugly face. 

After his target seemed to have vanished in thin air, thankfully, Billy sighed in deep relief and ran a hand over his suddenly warm face, coming down from the mini panic attack that you just unknowingly put him through. He thought you’d ditch Hawkins like you always said you would, find a better home to break more boys’ hearts and get a degree somewhere fancy. But then again, Billy remembers that there’s a lot of things you said you would do and ended up not doing.

“Hi, thank you for shopping with us. Would this be all for you today?” The kind middle aged woman behind the cash register asked. Billy scratched his head before forgetting if Max asked for anything or not, then decided whatever munchies she wanted could wait for next time. But first Billy needed to find another fucking store to shop at now, feeling like this place made Hell look like a playground with you and lover boy waltzing around, having a jolly time.

“Um, d’you think we could get this over with? ‘M kinda in a hurry here,” Billy laughs out of his anxiety, seeing the cashier woman take her time ringing him up. He squeamishly reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a few bucks then handed them over. She took the bills and slided them into the register one by one after scanning all of his items.

“Of course, sir. Would you like your receipt in the bag, or —?” Billy nodded his head and rushed to grab his bagged goodies before his name got called by a voice he never wanted to hear again.

“Billy?”

Holy mother of God.

Billy slowly turned around as if he were a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and there you were. He didn’t want to make it obvious that he was checking you out, seeing if you’ve changed a lot or just a little since three and a half years ago. And you did. You matured quite a bit, got a new hairstyle that suits you, and you have a cute outfit on with your usual style that hasn’t changed drastically since you were sixteen. Billy remembers all your adorable band tees you’d wear, and he also remembers yanking them off of you when he took you to his room. But he probably shouldn’t think about that right now, not with you and your new boyfriend right in front of him.

“Uh… hey,” he breathes out, clearing his throat and straightening out his jacket, even smoothing out his hair like an idiot as if it wasn’t too late to already. As if he still cared what you think of him and his appearance. You raised your brows at him and grinned like it was fucking amusing to see him get so worked up and uncomfortable, still a bitch, then grabbed a hold of the man’s coat and gave it a tug to signal him for his attention. The tall, dark handsome man looks over at Billy as you greet him.

“Hey there, stranger. It’s been a few,” you greet him as if he were an old colleague or some bullshit, not at all like an ex who’s heart you smashed to pieces. It’s unsettling to Billy, and he knows something is up, like you’re not completely being real, not acting like yourself. Even if it’s been a few years, there’s no way in hell you could have tossed your whole personality out the window. “Babe, this is Billy. He’s an old family friend of mine,” you introduce the two boys and they shake hands, your boyfriend’s grip much tighter and Billy’s more hesitant. _What the fuck is happening?_

“What’re you up to these days?” You inquire, probably faking interest in how he turned out after high school. Billy knows he doesn’t have it in him to stand another second of this conversation, and when shit hits the fan, he bolts.

“You know, sorry but I really gotta go. This was great, uh. Nice seeing you Y/N, and nice meeting you Amigo, ” he snatches his groceries before all but running out of the store, nearly knocking his head into the automatic opening door on the way out, recovering quickly. Leaving your boyfriend confused and you feeling somewhat lonely, suddenly wishing to be sixteen and by his side again.

—

“Family friend? What the fuck _was_ that!” Billy punched the steering wheel before he strapped on his seatbelt and threw his comfort food in the backseat. He can’t believe you, that you’d call him a family friend after all you two had been through. You were the first girl he ever actually found himself liking, and after you transferred to another school and dropped him like trash, you had since been the last girl he ever trusted, too. It was early 1983 when Billy was finally getting the attention from girls he wanted and having the time of his life in his second year of high school. You came around and made the first move asking him out, even calling the shots on what to do when you first started messing around, like the drunk on sex and hormones teenagers you were. 

You stood out amongst the other girls, he noticed it immediately and thought it would be fun to have a partner he could try out all the stuff he’d wanted to do. Practice was what he had called it, for when the time comes that his performance in bed actually mattered, since he was just a kid that went no further than second base before in his short life.  
Things took a turn, and looking back now Billy should’ve seen it coming. Catching feelings and spending an awful lot of time together made him weak, made him more vulnerable than he’d ever been before. You fell for him too, or maybe you just said that to appease him, Billy doesn’t know anymore and gets a headache when he tries putting the puzzle together. Always missing what the point of it all was. Meeting him, smiling at him and making the boy feel special, feel like a real man even at the tender age of sixteen. Teaching him how to fuck, how to make love, how to give head that could make a girl scream and beg for more, more, more. More importantly teaching him that it’s healthy to talk to people about how he feels, listening to others in return. Then out of nowhere, dropping Billy like a fly when you moved and never calling him back after you promised him you would. Like it meant nothing to you.

He had so much he wanted to say to you but you were untouchable. He didn’t know your new address to write you, couldn’t for the life of him look your family up in the phone book either. He’d never felt so hopeless, so alone. And it was a stab in the back that you never lived up to your word, promising you’d keep in contact with him and never forget about him. The then sixteen-year-old cried hard in his pillow every night for weeks wondering what went wrong to have you not even try to keep in contact. And to do that, to shove him away in a drawer labeled nothing by calling him a family friend… _fuck._

Billy snaps out of the painful flashback and refuses to let any tears out. If he didn’t deserve an explanation or some type of closure, then you didn’t deserve any of his tears. He rubbed his eyes as he sped home, then almost forgets the bags of frozen food in the back with how distracted he had gotten. When he made it into the house, he heated up two of his favorite frozen burritos in the microwave and ate all his sorrow away.

As Billy finished up his greasy deliciousness, he wiped his hands off on his already dirty jeans and answered the telephone attached to the wall that obnoxiously rang. It was Tommy on the line, saying something about some banger being thrown tonight. Just like that, a lightbulb lit up in Billy’s head.

 _Hell_ yeah.

Getting drunk, dancing drunk, burying all his feelings in some college girl’s pussy and chugging vodka sounded heavenly. Anything to forget the feelings and thoughts he had that slowly but surely started coming back up to the surface about Y/N.

—

Pretending to have a good time when you’d rather be home asleep is exhausting. The day dragged on with your boyfriend taking you place after place, spending penny after penny on you in hopes to buy your love, your affection, and your time. You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair in distress as lover boy decided to take you to another party you weren’t too keen on attending. Drinking sucked and made you sick, your boyfriend hated when you got stoned, so that ruled out all the fun of these get togethers. You tried to protest but he was insistent on going, it was no use; he had to have everything he wanted, and damn anything or anyone that got in his way.

“I’m serious. Give me the keys. You’ve had your fun, now I can drive you back to yours and you get your car from mine in the morning, alright?” you tried to ask nicely twice already, but he either ignored or refused you. He was passed tipsy already, slurring as he called you names and kept whining about how you never want to have any fun. When you try to take the keys from his back pocket he shoved you away then poured the remainder of his beer in your face. Absolutely humiliated with all eyes on you, you grabbed the nearest full drink not giving a shit who it belonged to and did the same, drenching his face in whatever sticky contents were in the solo cup and gave him the finger, running upstairs. Knowing lover boy he probably won’t even remember what happened tonight, beg for forgiveness, try to buy you back to him. Not happening this time.

Finding the nearest empty room upstairs to cry by yourself then clean off the stench of beer from your face and your clothes, you weren’t quite expecting your ex from three and a half years ago to come stumbling out of the restroom, the toilet flushing behind him as he still struggled to zip himself. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth too, looking about as “put together” as he did at the store. You laughed at the sight, classic Billy, and he snapped his head over to the sound and his cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth.

“You following me or something?” He asks, giving up on his belt and leaving it undone.

“Oh, actually I am. You caught me,” you replied, sarcasm blatant in your tone. You pulled the knobs to turn the sink on and cupped you’re hands to gather up a pool of water to wash your face that was still drenched in beer. Billy saw how disheveled you looked and wondered if it was because you were having a great time or a horrible time. Based on your attitude, he had to guess it wasn’t the ladder. “Is there anywhere you don’t smoke?” you ask, seeing as though he still smoked like a chimney even while taking a piss.

Billy chooses to ignore that, knowing you already had the answer to that question. Instead, he chooses to comment on your wet hair and beer stinking up your clothes. “Trouble in paradise?” He asks conversationally. You looked up at him and scoffed, giving him a glimpse of your ruined mascara now running down your cheeks.

“I’m not in paradise,” you answer vaguely, not wanting to bother him with the details. You just knew he wanted an _I Told You So,_ but you were stubborn enough not give it to him.

“Sure seems like it,” he responds. You want to roll your eyes at the signature attitude he’s giving, but can’t help feeling odd by the fact that you two were alone in a room together and he still hadn’t put his belt on properly.

“You look like an idiot. Come here,” you beckon him with your finger and he doesn’t move a muscle, just staring at you with his sultry blue eyes. 

“Alright, have it your way. I’ll come to you, prick,” after taking four steps to meet him you yank his belt then strap it on the tightest hole possible, finishing up by lacing the strap through the belt loops. While pulling away, Billy meets your eyes and holds your stare, not even blinking before he snaps out of it and goes back to brat mode.

“Thanks, but I’m not a goddamn child anymore. And you stink like PBR.”

“Oooh, sick burn, dude. It was a Budlight, by the way. That all you have left in you?”

“No, I have more. You got time to hear ‘em?”

“Got all night.”

—

You and Billy stayed upstairs and got to catching up, also throwing immature insults like “you peaked at sixteen” and “at least I don’t smoke on the toilet.” When you both finally let up and started laughing at your past mistakes and not holding grudges because of them, that’s when the energy in the room took a turn and you now remember that this is the Billy you knew. The doofus in the supermarket that ran into the door. Now you both lay on the bed, the blonde boy propped up by the headboard still chainsmoking, and you on the other end of the bed with your feet in his lap. Billy’s heart sings with how much he missed this, missed talking and just fucking around with eachother. Not taking anything serious. It was one of the many favorite qualities he had about you.

“Shit, I can’t even believe you’re really here. Never thought I’d see you again,” he murmurs while looking down at you, playfully tickling your feet that were in front of him. You reacted by almost kicking him in the face with laughter, then demanded he knock it off to which he surrendered.

“Well, same goes for me I guess. I can’t believe you don’t even try buttoning your shirts,” you say as he laughs and hides his face in his hands, adorably self conscious. “It’s hot though, don’t get me wrong. I can forgive you for that,” you sit up and reach to tug on the collar of his red button up, before you suddenly remember how you got here in the first place. “Can you ever forgive me?”  
Billy snaps his head up at the change in conversation, seeing as though you’re both getting to that point of the night. When you really start to talk about everything.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

You keep your eyes trained on him and scoot further up the bed right next to him before taking his cigarette from his mouth and giving it a drag yourself.

“Can you take me home?”

Billy turns his body towards yours and wraps one arm over your shoulder, as if protecting you. “I don’t know where you live anymore,” he rubs your back and let’s you lean your head in his exposed chest.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” you whisper as he nods in understanding, taking his keys from his pocket and opening the bedroom door and opening it for you.

—

Billy drove you to his apartment and led you up to his room, which he kept much neater than he did back in the day. He even had a bookcase that was filled with the classics as well as a variety of horror novels. Posters of naked playboy women were removed and instead he now had his class schedule hung up along with metal bands and movie posters decorating the walls. His bed was unmade, but what made you laugh out loud was seeing three rolls of tissue that were crumbled up on his bedside table.

“What? I’m getting over a cold, you asshole.” He defended himself as he took off his shirt, not caring to tell you to leave as he changed. You had to double take when you saw the ink on his upper arm, where a cheesy old fashioned skull tattoo lay.

“You can’t be serious — this isn’t real. That cannot be real,” your eyes wide with disbelief and not asking for permission before trying to rub it off, expecting it to smudge.

“Nope. It’s totally real,” he goes on to tell you his experience going in and getting it on his eighteenth birthday after feeling extra rebellious. After his story was finished he realizes he forgot to ask if you’d even eaten dinner yet. “You hungry at all? Got these kickass frozen burritos, plenty to share,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you agree that they sound fantastic right about now. Billy leads you back downstairs to the kitchen and plopping a couple of them on a plate and heating them up in the microwave.

“Billy, can I tell you something?”

“Uh, sure. If you wanna ruin our meal then go for it,” Billy answers, burning his fingers on the hot plate when he tries taking it out. The boy hissed and cursed, holding his sensitive hand as if it were a wounded animal. Still sitting at the kitchen table, you roll your eyes at his stupidity and impatience then grab the oven mittens from a drawer and grab the plate for you two.

“It’s hot,” you say obviously, stopping him from taking a bite of the sizzling meal.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up.”

“I’m serious. We’ve been avoiding it all night, but I know I hurt you when I didn’t keep in touch like I said—“

“Y/N, stop.”

“No. You need to understand-“

“I said stop.” he snaps, quickly transitioning to defense mode, vastly uncomfortable with the change in subject. It was silent for too long, and Billy didn’t want to wait any longer for the food to cool, taking a bite and spilling beans down his shirt. “Goddammit,” he grumbled before you took the lead and grabbed a napkin to clean his tank top.

“You need a bib,” you advise.

“You’re not my fucking mom, alright! You ask me to to take you back here, make me feel like a child. You’re the child. _You are!_ Go back to your snobby little boy toy, why don’t you? Christ.” he rubs his eyes after finishing his tangent, talking more under his breath about how “unbelievable” you are, and taking another sloppy bite from the burrito but nevertheless passing the plate to you and offering you some.

“I’m not hungry anymore, and I dumped my ‘boy toy’ right when he dumped his Budlight on me.” you quote Billy’s nickname for your new ex, then your stomach interrupts you by rumbling. He looks at you and then the plate knowingly. With a sigh, you grab the burrito and take a few nibbles before wiping your hands. Billy starts to stomp back up to his room before calling your name, pausing at the top of the stairs.

“I’m going to the gym tomorrow, Max is sleeping over at her friend El’s. You don’t have to stay.”

—

Billy doesn’t know what made him clam up so fast. Maybe it was how you still treated him like he was stupid, or that you wouldn’t drop it and bring up the breakup when he thought he was actually having a nice night. As soon as he enters his room he throws a pillow across the room and pouts before laying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He surges for his back up pack of smokes and lights one up, the nicotine relieving him of his anxiety. Eventually he had to get up again to take a piss and when he exited the bathroom, there you were, waiting for him.

“Can’t get rid of me, William.”

“Who got rid of who last time, huh?” He blows smoke in your face with a smirk, happy about the cleverness of his comeback. “I already forgave you. Don’t bother.” He told you, strolling back to his room with his smoke trailing behind him.

“I’m sorry for referring to you as a family friend. Honestly, if he were to hear anything different he would’ve hurt me and then he would’ve killed you.” Billy stopped and turned around to where you stand, seeing your eyes brimmed with tears as you held your chest, trying your hardest not to fall apart.

Tugging on his heart strings since he was sixteen, Billy can’t help but give in.

“Come here.”

You fall into his warm embrace, with “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I’m repeat and he shushes you while petting your hair, holding you tight.

“Y/N, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” he pleads, not standing it when you’re sad and especially when he was the cause of it.

“I left you and I didn’t talk to you ever again because I’m replaceable. You could’ve found _any_ other girl or… or anybody to keep you company the rest of high school. But you spent it moping about losing me like the fucking _idiot_ you are!” you laugh out loud, and it wasn’t humorous. Billy leads you in his room and ashes his cigarette without taking his hands off you.

“Listen. No, _listen to me._ Shut the fuck up. I didn’t mope about just any girl, and I don’t ever cry and bitch about her leaving me unless she meant the fucking world to me,” he takes your head in his hands, wanting to make you understand.

“I still love you. Even if you smoke on the toilet and do all the other weird shit you do,” you smile as you sniffle, embaressed about getting his shirt wet. Billy assured you that it didn’t matter then pulls you close to his lips.

“And I love you, even if you still reek like PBR.”

“It was a Budlight that was thrown at me, actually.”

“Shut up.”

And now Billy can say he’s never been more grateful he went to the supermarket for his favorite frozen burritos that morning.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: valiidpunkman :) I take requests and stuff there.


End file.
